![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
[open] apples and quinces, lemons and oranges
Who: Ned, open to all
What: Here be species-swap logs involving Ned the unlikely fertility god.
Where: Anywhere (preferably outdoors).
When: Duration of the event (58 - 61); put date in header, please.
Warnings: Blood, kidnapping, creepiness and general Ned-terrorizing? [will add more as necessary]
Ned wanders the town barefoot, leaving a path of fruit and flowers and vegetation behind him. There are daffodils and bluebells, hyacinths and crocuses, irises of all colors, primroses and poppies and periwinkle in profusion. When he stops to sit quietly under a tree, by the edge of the woods, the vines spread out from his body like paint creeping through water. They slowly wind their way up the trees, or else sprawl across the ground, swelling with strawberries and blackberries, grapes and kiwis, passionfuit and cherries.
He doesn't understand why it is happening, but from the sound of the messages over the communicator, everyone has been going through some strange changes. As far as Ned's concerned, being some kind of plant conjurer is better than some options.
Since he can't think of much else to do with his time, Ned lounges in the dappled shade and makes bouquets. All he needs to do is rake his hands through the soil and a few minutes later, up come the snapdragons, up come the cala lilies. He finds that, if he focuses on a particular kind of flower as he does it, sometimes it is mixed amongst the others. As he sits the hydrangeas are bubbling up around him, shielding him from view.
Ned isn't worried about resting in the woods, despite all the dire warnings he's heard in his short time here. He is at the very edge, just in the shade of the first few trees; the lions and tigers and bears can't possibly have any objections. So he lounges in his cozy bower, hazy, half-awake (he hadn't exactly slept well, the previous night), weaving crowns of camellias and garlands of gladiolus.
What: Here be species-swap logs involving Ned the unlikely fertility god.
Where: Anywhere (preferably outdoors).
When: Duration of the event (58 - 61); put date in header, please.
Warnings: Blood, kidnapping, creepiness and general Ned-terrorizing? [will add more as necessary]
Ned wanders the town barefoot, leaving a path of fruit and flowers and vegetation behind him. There are daffodils and bluebells, hyacinths and crocuses, irises of all colors, primroses and poppies and periwinkle in profusion. When he stops to sit quietly under a tree, by the edge of the woods, the vines spread out from his body like paint creeping through water. They slowly wind their way up the trees, or else sprawl across the ground, swelling with strawberries and blackberries, grapes and kiwis, passionfuit and cherries.
He doesn't understand why it is happening, but from the sound of the messages over the communicator, everyone has been going through some strange changes. As far as Ned's concerned, being some kind of plant conjurer is better than some options.
Since he can't think of much else to do with his time, Ned lounges in the dappled shade and makes bouquets. All he needs to do is rake his hands through the soil and a few minutes later, up come the snapdragons, up come the cala lilies. He finds that, if he focuses on a particular kind of flower as he does it, sometimes it is mixed amongst the others. As he sits the hydrangeas are bubbling up around him, shielding him from view.
Ned isn't worried about resting in the woods, despite all the dire warnings he's heard in his short time here. He is at the very edge, just in the shade of the first few trees; the lions and tigers and bears can't possibly have any objections. So he lounges in his cozy bower, hazy, half-awake (he hadn't exactly slept well, the previous night), weaving crowns of camellias and garlands of gladiolus.
no subject
She can't help but think that it tastes good, though. Not necessarily the taste of his blood - that part is disgusting. But not being so thirsty anymore, not feeling so parched. Even the dizziness is preferable. It's more than just dizziness, though. She's feeling tipsy.
It doesn't take her much longer to slake her thirst, and then she licks the wound clean and stands back, swaying and blinking as plants swim in her vision. "I might need a lie-down."
no subject
In the meantime, he rests his head against the ground, dizzy from the blood loss and the sense of complete unreality that this is something actually happening to him.
"Go ahead," he tells Veronica. From the sound of her voice, his blood has had the same, intoxicating effect on her as he'd predicted. "Shouldn't last too long. Maybe an hour? I don't know. I wasn't keeping track last time." Some other stuff had been happening, shall we say. Distracting stuff involving kidnap.
It feels bizarre, making small talk when a minute ago Veronica was licking blood off his neck, but Ned isn't sure what else to do, apart from lay there in silence. "So what's your story, Veronica? I'm guessing you're not usually a vampire."
no subject
She closes her eyes, but she can't fall asleep. She rolls onto her other side, but that doesn't help, either. It's still nighttime, and she has too much energy to go back to sleep.
"So... Sorry about that being how we meet and all. Did we actually- Um. My name is Veronica. Hi." She holds her hand up in the air, where it waves lightly like a flag in the breeze. To say his blood is intoxicating might be an understatement.
no subject
It strikes him as strange, offering protection to a vampire. If a dire wolf or other monster comes by, he's not going to be able to fight it off. Then again, he's a decent enough runner and she is so small: he could easily carry her, if it came to that. The fact that she is worried enough to ask strikes a chord with him. He recognizes that paranoid reflex; it takes one to know one.
"You shouldn't be. Sorry, I mean, about the biting." He feels the anemones blooming beneath his neck, realizes he must be bleeding onto the ground, and adjusts his hold so he can press down harder on the wound. There seems to be a sort of waiting period, between being injured and when his healing powers take effect. "You were very polite. Everyone else just kind of lunged at me."
And then, because Veronica seems pretty out of it and perhaps not in the ideal state to introduce herself, Ned decides to fill the silence on his own.
"Ned," he repeats, "I'm a pie-maker. Or at least I was, before I ended up here." He's still providing sustenance in his way, but he thinks he prefers baking. "Now I'm apparently a guy who makes plants grow with with his hands. Though I suppose everyone who makes plants grow does it with their hands, to some extent. I meant magically. Makes plants grow magically with his hands." He plucks one of the anemones with his free hand holds it up in evidence, twirling it between thumb and forefinger. "Which is kind of nice, if weird. I've been working on an orchard. Help with the food shortage."
He's been helping a bit with the vampire feeding, too, but that's been unofficial and, up until this point, not really his choice.
no subject
"I'm a normal person and not a junior PI at all 'cause I promised I wasn't gonna be. Course, that was before I came here. Wherever here is. My dad is gonna be sooooo so soooooooooo upset."
She's quiet for a couple seconds and then chuckles to herself. "I could lunge at you if you wanted. I have my lunging license."
no subject
"I think I've had more than enough lunging these last few days, but thanks."
Ned slips into a friendly sort of silence after that, sitting up once his neck has healed and his head isn't spinning so badly any longer. He lets Veronica rest there undisturbed, keeping watchful for anything else coming from the woods, but they are undisturbed.